


Please Just Let Me Go

by Ry (Reedeemedbywater)



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, broken!Merlin, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:30:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reedeemedbywater/pseuds/Ry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It took three scratches to open a floodgate."</p><p>The burden on Merlin's shoulders is especially heavy with no one to help carry it, but no one thought it would come to this.<br/>In the end, no one is safe from depression, and even the brave Arthur is no match for the storm that's brewing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worth Less

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING.
> 
> This story has very graphic depiction of self-harm. Do NOT read if this could be triggering for you.

Chapter 1. Worth Less

It started simply.  
Well, simply as can be said for what it was of course. Merlin had been too busy with chores for Arthur and running errands for Gaius and had skipped the second meal of the day.  
The dull groan of his empty stomach didn't grind on him as it usually did, instead the numbing pain felt almost comfortable to him. 

Arthur had called him lazy, incompetent, and stupid only just that morning and for what felt like maybe the first time Merlin was truly considering the words. He was always one to brush insults off with a smile or a witty remark, and so he had absolutely no idea what to do with the insults that did make there way in. Instead, he was allowing them to tear him apart. 

Arthur's chambers were spotless finally, Merlin wiped at a bead of sweat on his brow and nearly jumped when he heard a voice behind him. 

"You've finished already?" Arthur looked impressed. 

This was good, Merlin thought. He always wanted Arthur to be impressed with him. Even if that meant continuing to work himself into a frenzy, the newest way to inflict harmless pain on himself he had discovered. 

"Yes. Will you be needing anything else, Sire?" Merlin answered, straightening his shoulders and clasping his hands in front of himself, a model of a perfect servant. 

Arthur eyed him up and down before replying, "yes, I'll need my servant back," he said pursing his lips. "He looks a bit like you but stands more hunched, he would've forgotten to turn down the covers, and he's always got a bit of an oafish grin," the King explained. 

Merlin stared at his feet. "I'll send him when I find him," he muttered almost inaudibly. 

Arthur grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving his chambers. He stood to face him and eyed him levelly before asking, "are you sure you're alright?" 

Merlin broke eye contact before mumbling, "I'm fine. Gaius was just up late studying that new illness last night. All his moving about kept me up."

"So you're just tired then?" Arthur asked, skepticism heavy in his voice.

Merlin nodded, "yes of course," as he plastered a smile on to his face. He hated lying to Arthur but how else could he ever explain this kind of exhaustion.

"Well then wake up!" Arthur said jokingly, "the days half over already, you do know that right?"

The witty remark was there in the back of Merlin's mind, the response Arthur was expecting, but this game suddenly seemed pointless and Merlin couldn't bring himself to play. 

"I'm well aware," he said in a monotone instead.

"I know something more is bothering you," Arthur said. 

Merlin said nothing to confirm or deny it. 

"If you don't want to speak with me about whatever it is, that's fine. But please talk to someone, I can see pain on your face and confusion in your eyes. Please have someone help you understand whatever it is... That will be all, he said dropping Merlin's arm as he seemed to realize he was still holding it. 

Merlin laughed to himself on the trek back home, Arthur had seemed actually genuinely concerned for him for a brief moment. 

It was funny of course because Arthur was the cause for so many of his problems, and Arthur thought he needed to ask for help. He didn't need help, everything was under control.

He would make sure to keep everything under control.


	2. Under Control?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> this chapter has very graphic depictions of self harm. Please do NOT read if you are at risk of self harm

Gaius had his hands full with a new illness that had just started lapping at the gates of the citadel. It was affecting the river men in the lower towns more than anyone else and he had left to run tests on the water. This left Merlin alone whenever he wasn't serving Arthur, and the weird desire grew worse and worse in the quiet of being alone. He skipped meals every now and again, but he knew someone would notice and grow suspicious if he made it a habit. But the desire for pain still persisted, angrily storming into each of his thoughts and demanding fulfillment. The thoughts grew increasingly worse until Merlin could no longer stand them. 

A few scratches was all it took the first time, just casually scratching his nails along his rib cage where he knew no one wold see it. This burning desire inside of him wasn't so scary after all if it could be controlled so easily, he reasoned with himself. It took three scratches to open a floodgate

XXX

Arthur could see Merlin changing. Everything about the boy was wrong these days, he looked too plate and too skinny.   
Even as each day he seemed to take to his tasks more vigorously, the light was fading from his eyes. Damn Merlin for being such a private man, it lead Arthur to be staring in through a window as Merlin self destructed but Arthur was never given a key with which to run in and stop it if it ever got too bad. 

"Merlin," Arthur called, clearing his throat. This was the third time that morning that Merlin had begun staring into space and forgetting everything. 

"Are you really even here anymore?" Arthur hated himself for the weak way his voice shook, laden down with care. The lost look in his beloved friend's eyes broke his heart. 

"Damn this!" Arthur said slamming his fist on to his desk, "tell me what to do and I'll do it, tell me how to help you, how to fix you." 

Merlin didn't flinch at his outburst, in fact he barely seemed to register it. "Some people are born broken, Arthur," he finally replied. "Some people don't know what it's like being whole. Most of us are scared to even try it." 

Merlin's voice sounded so much stronger than his own, Arthur thought. Entirely void of emotion, like a true man, his father would say. Arthur couldn't help briefly envying Merlin. almost immediately realizing that this was only because the other man was broken and immediately feeling guilty. 

"I have seen you whole, Merlin. I have seen you smile at the thought of life, surely there are those born broken, I won't deny it. But that has never been you. How do I get you back?"  
Tears threatened to spill from the sentiment he was making but if Merlin noticed, if he thought less of him because of this, he didn't say it.

"I'm not sure anything can be done, Sire. If you're needing nothing else..." 

Arthur nodded at the door granting Merlin permission to leave. "Please be careful, Merlin..." he said to Merlin's retreating figure. 

XXX

"How do I fix you. Fix you. Fix. Fix what's broken. You. You're broken. You're so, so broken..." 

Merlin's thoughts formed a background mantra as he entered his room, shut the door, pulled out a box from under the bed and opened it to reveal a knife that had been given to him as a gift for a birthday in years past. He rolled the sleeve of his tunic up meticulously, he had done this before of course. A nick or two here and there or a delicious scratch along his stomach where no one would ever think to look.

But this time was different, he could feel it in every inch of himself. There were monsters trapped under his skin just fighting for their way out. Tonight he knew he would dance once again with the idea of releasing them. 

He dragged the sharp blade across his forearm for the first time and stared fixated at the red beads that sprang to the surface. He sliced once more through the already opened wound and watched as the beads collected and ran down the side of his arm, staining his mattress.

"You can't fix me," Merlin whispered, dragging the razor across his arm again and again. He wasn't trying to die, only just to feel enough to remind himself that he was still alive. 

It took him very little time to discover how oblivious others were so long as you smiled and nodded at all the right places, and so easily enough he had found a coping method that worked for him so long as he hid it. 

During the day he smiled and nodded and listened to everyone and everything, and during the night he tuned in to a constant assault of all the thoughts he pushed back during the day. Worthless. Stupid. Incompetent. Screw up. Bastard. Faiulre. His mind churned and spit insults like an ocean ripping in to a boat during a storm and he tore at his wrists in much the same way every night, forming a habit out of sitting silently in the eye of a storm and bleeding. 

But a ship can only weather a storm for so long before it begins the sinking.


	3. Submersi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to the first bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: graphic depictions of self-harm, attempted suicide implied/referenced

Years had passed, Uther had died and Arthur had assumed the throne and was well on his way to establishing what we remember now in legend as the great kingdom of Camelot. And in all of this, Merlin kept quiet and to himself, silently protecting Arthur just as he always had, just as he likely always would. 

Throughout the years there were times of course when Merlin wanted to tell Arthur. Or times when Merlin thought that Arthur was going to find out despite the fact that he was trying to hide it all. But he never did, which left Merlin feeling as though the crescendo of his life was still just around the corner.   
Everything had changed, Arthur had become king and married Gwen, the knights of Camelot were people from the common world instead of noble blood, and even Morgana had changed in ways less fortunate than the others. But Merlin had remained the same. 

He walked into his and Gaius’ shared quarters dragging his feet. It was late, later by far than when he should be coming home. Gaius was getting older and he hated disturbing the man’s rest but he simply would not hear of Merlin moving out. Even though he was far too old now to really need to be under someone’s care or protection, Gaius still seemed to feel somewhat responsible for him.

It was a thought that pained Merlin if only briefly as he crept into his quarters, if only Gaius knew the suffering he had been enduring these long years. But there was one thing that always seemed to make him feel better, even if only for the moment.  
He sat down on his bed and clenched and unclenched his fists a few times subconsciously, biting on his lip. It was a game he had begun to play with himself at night after coming home from serving the king, how long could he sit in silence and enjoy it before the thoughts creeped in, before the mantra in his mind filled to the brim with insults and self-loathing started screaming at him about how worthless he was. 

Some days the thoughts startled him into hastened shallow breathing and feeling dizzy and light headed as if he would never catch his breath again. Other days his mind was so brutal that he wished he had a stronger weapon with which to silence it forever. And still others, like today were dull. Mind-numbing, heart achingly dull. Nothing good enough to cause him to be happy had happened, but nothing bad enough to cause him to be sad had happened either. Nothing at all seemed to have happened, and Merlin was bored. 

He frowned at the thought before furrowing his brows and he knew that he was about to lose all control. Bored? The angry voice in his mind which he knew was on some level him, but also seemed as if someone else entirely asked him. Bored? You’re bored that the king of Camelot is no longer in life-threatening peril on a daily basis? You’re bored that you don’t have to constantly save his ass and make sure no one notices it? You’re bored seeing your best friend happy and married to the woman he loves? How stupid and selfish can you be? 

Merlin bit his lip again but this time harder, tasting blood and his breathing began to get shaky even though he willed it not to. “Please…” he said out loud, his fingers covering his ears but he couldn’t block out the sounds coming from within his mind.   
Most would say that he was too hard on himself, but Merlin knew that perfection could be attained. He just needed to be a little better first was all, and he wasn’t going to get better by being content or complacent. 

You would rather see him die, wouldn’t you? Or maybe have him come near death so that you could rescue him and be a hero. So that maybe they would finally notice you, so that your life wouldn’t seem so meaningless….

My life has meaning. Merlin thought to himself firmly, feeling strong against his mind for the first time in a long time. “My purpose and my destiny is to protect Arthur, and I’ll never forget that regardless of what you try to make me do!”

Gaius snored from the other room, startling Merlin. He only then realized that he had said that out loud and thanked the gods that Gaius was still asleep. 

Arthur doesn’t need you anymore, look around. He’s king, he’s married, and he’s got knights to protect him. What need does he have for a servant? 

Merlin clenched his jaw and spoke through his teeth, “I’m not a servant, and I’m a sorcerer” 

He could practically hear the voice laughing in his mind and he couldn’t quite blame the personality he had constructed in his mind for it, after all no one but Gaius knew of his powers here in Camelot, to them he really was just an incompetent serving boy with a good heart, and a few scars. 

Of course, they didn’t know about the scars. Merlin thought, rubbing his wrist with a careful expression, practicing touching his injuries without betraying anything to anyone. He had briefly considered asking for help when it had first started, this new found addiction of his. But an unfortunate side effect of being crazy he found was not wanting anyone to know that you’re crazy. What kind of idiot does what he does to himself anyways? He had never heard of anything like it and had never seen anything of the sort in any of the medical books Gaius keeps laying around their quarters. He searched for it in all of them once, desperate to find a cure and if not a cure at least a reason for it. But instead he came up empty handed and with another row of scars.   
He rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and searched for a patch of skin that was not already littered with cuts and scars, something that was becoming more and more difficult to do as he ran out of places his knife had not been before. 

When he had first started, the cuts always began as perfectly organized lines in a row, all the same length and all just as deep as the other. But then he grew worse, and worse, until each time he wielded his knife against himself was a frenzied attack of slashing up and down and curving and spelling out the words he felt defined him and slicing the same spot over and over again until his fingers were covered in blood and the light was fading from his eyes and his sheets were stained with blood.   
He had continued in this frenzied state of accelerating harm until one day he made a grave mistake. 

XXX 

It was the third month of King Uther’s 42 year and Merlin’s year anniversary of being a servant to the royal prat prince himself. In celebration of the day, knowing he would get no other recognition for his servant-hood, Merlin had sharpened his knife and bought some extra gauze with coins he collected from cleaning the floors in the castle. He didn’t think about the way other kids his age would celebrate their achievements, he knew it wouldn’t be quite like this. 

But the act of cutting soothed him, it told him that he was in control if just for the moment. It reminded him that he had the power to choose whether or not to face pain, and it trained him to face it in ever-growing increments. In fact, tonight he was going to test just how far his limits could really go which is why he had taken a slight precaution and made sure to acquire gauze. 

He turned the knife over in his hands and traced the runes with his finger, wishing for some reason suddenly that he knew what they said. He was fixated on everything but the task at hand it seemed, and the evil, dark part of his mind which he was beginning to think of as the demon in his subconscious was growing impatient. 

It prodded him forward as if dark magic were at work, he lifted the knife to his arm even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to and then he was slicing cleanly through his skin and everything made sense again. He could practically feel his mind relaxing as it got the pain that it had been thirsting for, and he watched with interest as drops of blood gathered at the top of each new open wound. 

More.

The voice in his mind said when he reached for the gauze to wrap his arm, after all he had achieved the reaction he thought he wanted. But the voice was there and Merlin had learned early on that the voice could not be ignored, it would just get louder and louder until Merlin was sure that everyone in any room could hear everything that it said. 

He obliged slowly, positioning the knife to his arm and slicing again right by the other rows of wounds which were just beginning to clot over. When the voice told him to drag the razor across all of the wounds which were healing, making a pattern not unlike a game of tic-tac-toe. Merlin smiled to himself at the thought despite the eerie context it was presented in and then did as he was told. 

And then he traced that same cut again and again and again until there was so much blood that the rest of the cuts were unnoticeable, slicing into the same spot on his arm again and again and feeling absolutely nothing. Sixteen times. If he had only stroked his razor that deep sixteen times, everything would’ve all been okay. He would’ve put bandages on, rolled down his tunic and went to sleep, well rested and prepared to serve Arthur in the morning.   
But he didn’t stroke it 16 times, he had to make it 17. The seventeenth stroke is what almost killed him. The cut was deep to begin with, but opening it again and again with a sharp knife wasn’t helping anything. With each stroke more blood gathered on the end of the knife, and on his fingers, and then it was dancing before his eyes. There was so much blood.

Working with Gaius, Merlin had seen sick people before. He had seen severely injured people. One of the most difficult lessons that Merlin had ever had to learn was the definition of “the point of no return”. He had seen people bleed out under Gaius’ watch for plenty of reasons. Because there weren’t enough bandages, because the cut was too deep to do anything about it, even because Gaius simply didn’t get there in time. But there was one distinctive feature about every single patient that Gaius lost in this way. They all had a limit. They all had a chance at one point during their bleeding process and then passed a moment of no return once the puddle of blood was too big.  
And even though Merlin wasn’t quite a good physician yet, he did know one thing about medical things. The puddle surrounding him was becoming too big. 

His breathing grew shaky and shallow, and it was hard to tell if he was really taking in air at all. He hadn’t been trying to kill himself he kept telling himself again and again as if he was skeptical and didn’t belief himself. He hadn’t been trying to die, he just wanted to make sure he was alive. But he wasn’t going to be alive for much longer if things kept going how they were going, because that seventeenth stroke on his arm snagged a vein, and he was weakened watching his blood spill out.


	4. mortem dulcissimi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to emotional instability, not everyone knows how to help.. And in this chapter, we find that Merlin may have exhausted the help that one source can offer. Merlin might be the greatest sorcerer in Camelot, but is he stronger than his mind even when he's got no one on his side?   
> Depression is one hell of a drug and it hurts more than just us. It hurts those around us too, and it exasperates them when they try to help and we refuse to accept it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:   
>  Graphic depictions of self-harm   
>  Suicidal thoughts/suicidal actions

Merlin shuddered involuntarily as he remembered that day, he could still feel the stone that seemed to drop into his heart when he woke up to Gaius sad eyes hovering what felt like just inches above his face. Gaius had breathed a sigh of relief and tried to hide his look of concern but it was too late, Merlin had already seen it. And even as he realized how dangerous his newfound obsession was becoming, he made a mental note to wear how Gaius concern had made him feel on his wrists the next chance he got.  
That chance was not going to come easily, he realized after he had gotten better and asked to return to work. Something had changed between Arthur and him. The prince moved a little slower, spoke a little softer, and Merlin hated every moment of it. If Arthur were doing this because he felt bad for the way he always treated Merlin and had wanted to begin to see him as a friend instead of just a servant that would be one thing, but that wasn’t what this was. Arthur was worried. Everyone was worried, and try as he might to explain that he wasn’t trying to kill himself, no one would believe him. 

After all, he had been found clutching a razor, practically drowning in a pool of his own blood. His bedsheets and the floor around his bed were stained with it, a stain which would never be scrubbed out of the room. The smell of iron crept into his dreams as he tossed in his sleep, his mind conjuring up who might’ve seen him in that state, who he had hurt by his selfish actions, and he feared the physicians face would never soften back into the carefree man that Gaius had once been.

XXX

Merlin sighed to himself at the memory and tried not to look at the bloodstains that were still faintly visible under a thin layer of dust. His cuts had very first started off organized, and then escalated to erratic, and then were beyond his control. But now they were back under his control, he would never let them get bad again. 

It had been years since that incident, that unfortunate moment when Merlin had been weak. But with time and a few fake smiles, a half-hearted joke here and a witty remark there, he built back up his reputation as the carefree idiot that they all loved. Everyone assumed Merlin was okay and carried on with their lives. And really, so did Merlin. The only difference was that for him, carrying on with his life didn’t just mean fulfilling his duties, it also meant secretly keeping the king from magical harm and perhaps some days an even bigger secret, not letting anyone know when he had come to harm.

He smiled to himself as he finally found a patch of skin just above the crook of his elbow that hadn’t yet met the razor. It was unsettling almost to think about just how relieving the feeling of pain could be for Merlin. Sometimes it felt better than a breath of fresh air. It was like a cold breeze hitting his face, reminding him forcefully that he was still alive. That was all it was ever supposed to be, a reminder that he was still alive.   
The first cut was shallow and Merlin frowned slightly, he only had two more chances to get the relief he wanted. He only allowed himself three cuts each time now, to avoid ever crossing the line again. But he wasn’t really getting better, even though that’s what he told himself. Because three cuts at a time escalated from once a day to twice a day, until Merlin lost count of just how many times he slipped away from whatever else he was supposed to be doing in favor of seeking out the pain that his mind was constantly craving. 

The second cut was deeper, more fulfilling and with it came blood. The first one had only turned red with blood that came to the surface without breaching it, but the second turned from drops to a single large drop which collected and then rolled slowly down Merlin’s arm, leaving a trail of red in its wake. That one could’ve almost been enough. But Merlin had decided on three, and for some reason he felt incomplete and unfinished unless he made it to three each and every time. And so he positioned his knife against his arm for a final time, and sliced just as someone knocked on the door. He jumped and the knife dug deeper than he had intended, deeper than he had ever gone. 

He gasped in a sharp exhale of pain and clenched his jaw, rolling down his tunic and kicking the knife under his bed before muttering a “come in”. 

“Is this a bad time,” Gaius asked Merlin as he went to rummage around in the small cupboard of the boys room. 

“Well I am all but asleep,” Merlin said with a slight smile 

Gaius chuckled to himself, “I won’t keep you, I’m just needing a few herbs from the cabinet. I’ve got to keep them in here because the rest of the house gets too much sunlight, and these are no good once they’ve been dried by the sun,” he said pulling out a few jars of plants which Merlin didn’t recognize. 

On any other day, Merlin might’ve been curious to know just what was in the jars and why Gaius needed them, but now couldn’t be the time. Instead, he acted more tired than he felt, hoping that his drowsiness would hurry the physician in allowing him to get to sleep.

“Merlin, is there something you want to tell me?” Gaius asked instead, sitting down on the edge of Merlin’s bed with his brows furrowing into his famous skeptical look, daring Merlin to lie to him. 

Merlin thought for a moment about the lies that he had told just that week before smiling and saying “not that I can recall, so nothing of importance.”

Gaius narrowed his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip before leaning closer, it was perhaps the most haunting face which Merlin had seen his guardian make as of yet before asking a question that Merlin was sure he didn’t actually want the answer to.  
“Then why are you bleeding?” 

Merlin did not want to ask for help. After all, he had been doing this almost every night for two years and no one had ever noticed or cared. Because it wasn’t a big deal, nothing was happening really other than a coping method which people didn’t understand.   
“It’s nothing, just a scratch I’d imagine,” Merlin thought quickly, “serving the prince isn’t easy you know.”

“No, and I can’t imagine the way he’s always treated you is an easier on your mind,” Gaius relented with a heavy sigh. “I’ve tried to protect you Merlin, but…”

Merlin was prepared for almost anything. He was prepared for the hurt that Gaius would inevitably and entirely unintentionally cause, he was prepared for Gaius getting mad at him, he was even prepared for if Gaius were to tell him to leave…. But what he wasn’t prepared for was the defeated way the physician’s shoulders sagged, and the empty way he said those chilling words.

“I cannot help you if you do not want help.” 

He didn’t ask to see the wounds so as to tend to them or otherwise, he didn’t even seem concerned. He didn’t seem to feel anything but empty at the realization that his ward was still in just as poor a mindset as he was those many years ago when he first had to save him from himself. But if Merlin had decided that he was the monster he was trying to escape, only he could change his mind.

Merlin looked at his arm to see just how noticeable the blood was and felt dizzy as he realized that his tunic was soaked with it. How was it that Gaius could’ve just up and walked away from such a problem? Those 17 cuts so many years ago didn’t kill him even though maybe on a level they were supposed to, but this, this just might. And Gaius had deserted him. 

Merlin smiled a bone-chilling smile at the thought, and a feeling of eerie relief washed over him, he was truly entirely alone and therefore entirely allowed to escape. He couldn’t waste this moment, he decided rashly pulling at his sleeve and stretching the wound with his fingers to ensure that the blood kept coming. Every time blood clotted he’d scrape it away and prod the wound again. 

It was as if he had become someone other than himself in his pursuit of bloody victory, every moment which he wasn’t bleeding felt like a race against time before Gaius changed his mind and reentered the room to try and bandage the wounds. Merlin scared even himself when he realized that his intentions were to be gone before Gaius returned.


End file.
